Rain
by invasianofasians
Summary: [AU] Because he was the Angel, feared yet revered. Because she was the Artist, charismatic yet insecure. Because together, they were inseparable. Because fate didn't want a happy ending. Rated for angst. Cameos from other characters. Longing for critiques if possible; reviews/suggestions are extremely needed.


**A/N: I lied. I fell back on the Hitsuhina fandom again -_-**

**Here's a little something I whipped up in a total of- **_**holy shit-**_** six months. **

**Highly recommend that readers listen to sad music while reading this fic. Might set the mood better, might leave you in a worse mood.**

**Caution: not a happy fic. Death abound. **

**Rain**

_There once was a brilliant scientist who sought eternal life._

"Turn it on. We do not have enough time."

A lithe hand, mottled with bruises, clenched the switch.

"Experiment # 1039: Proceed."

The switch was pulled. The lights went out.

Bright electricity fizzed in the laboratory.

"Sir, you are aware that the facility will be shut down if this doesn't work."

"I am well aware of that." the hand let go of the switch. "This time, it will succeed."

"But-"

"Do not question my authority."

_He spent countless hours formulating the perfect specimen._

The heat was almost too much to bear. Scars of light crawled over skin, burning and crackling.

One final moan. One final twitch. One final gasp.

The light dissipated in a rush of white. A motionless figure curled in the center of the ever-burning cage.

Then in a scream of red, it stirred.

Two aquamarine eyes cracked open.

Two snowy wings fluttered.

"I told you it would work."

_And when it finally succeeded, he was ecstatic._

Some called him "The Angel." Others branded him "Decem."

It didn't matter at all. In a world of pain and lies, a name was the last thing he needed.

"Your arm, Decem." A woman brandished a tray covered in syringes.

He stubbornly hid a pale arm, painted over with thousands of red dots.

"You see, Decem; this is for your own good. This syringe will lower your blood sugar. That syringe will add more potassium to your diet. These ones will strengthen your bones."

A husky voice, hoarse from months of silence, answered her. "I thought my blood sugar was already stabilized."  
"Ah, but that's the beauty of it all, child." the woman smiled wanly. "We are developing cures for many diseases. You are saving lives simply by sitting here and obeying me. Now, your arm."

Even after three thousand eight hundred and twenty shots, the syringe still stung as it slid in.

_But the scientist did not count on one thing._

He was sitting alone when the cell door opened.

Two sets of polished shoes clacked past his gaze.

"Decem has been awfully quiet these past few weeks. I am worried that if this continues, he will refuse to participate willingly. If we resort to violence, our experiments might be considered invalid," a hushed voice inked in the silence.

"Bring in the company. Where's Quīnque?"

"Right here, sir."

Two bruised feet positioned themselves in front of him.

He looked up at an equally pale being.

"This is 'The Artist.'"

_That even perfection,_

"Hello" is the first thing she said to him when she was brutally shoved into the cell.

Naturally, he ignored her. Years of abuse and betrayal have taken their toll; he had no trust.

"They call me 'The Artist' because of my art." she idly plucked at a stray pencil nestled in her mousy brown hair. "I don't know what the deal is, though. I don't like that name."

"Hm?" He looked up at her. There was something about her that drew him in.

"What do they call you?"

"Decem. 'The Angel.'" The words burned a harsh sensation in his mouth.

"That means I came before you." A hush of sadness settled over her at that statement. "Quīnque. 'The Artist,' at your service. But you already know that." her pencil traced a line over the smooth floor, a smudge of color in the drab plane of gray.

He paused. "I'm 'The Angel' because I save people."

She snorted. "And _how_ exactly do you save people? By sitting down and doing nothing?"

"Pretty much, yes." His eyes shifted ever-so-slightly to her twirling hands. "What do _you_ do?"

Looking up, she groaned. "I told you. They like my art."

"Hm."

"My job is to draw things that they want me to draw."

"Hm."

"Sometimes, I can even predict the future."

"Hm… What?"

Her sudden laugh bounced off the walls, a sweet melody in a world of eternal silence. "I guess you were paying attention then!"

"But what did you mean by-"

"Predicting the future? I know it sounds corny and stupid, but that's what they did to me. Every once in a while I'll see an inkling of something. Then, I draw it." she paused. "And if I try hard enough…"

He watched in horror as his newfound companion slumped to the floor, pencil clenched tightly in her right hand.

The pencil shuddered and jerked across the floor, breathing a landscape sketch to life. He peered over her trembling shoulder, gazing at the penciled ground, the graphite sky, the dusty haze of debris. The pencil smoothed a gloomy haze over the floor.

Water.

A post-apocalyptic world.

When her body stopped shaking and her brown eyes slipped open, she smiled grimly and pointed to the picture.

"That's the future of this world."

_Had a chance,_

She was the one who taught him to say "no."

It all started with a simple command. "Quīnque. Your leg."

He watched her as she glared at the man standing in front of her.

"No."

She dared to defy the authority.

"Quīnque, I won't ask again. Your leg." the man commanded. "Think of all the poor people suffering while you are being stubborn."

"No one is suffering because of me, _sir_." she spat. "No one is being stabbed with injections every day. No one has to go through this pain."

"Quīnque, you do not want me to call in the Leader."

"He's not the one being hurt every day."

"Quīnque."

"No."

He watched as the man slung her effortlessly over his shoulder and stomped away.

And when both had left and the door was shut, he opened his mouth.

"N-n-no."

"N-no."

"No."

"_No_."

The taste was foreign in his mouth when he rolled the word around his teeth.

But somehow, it felt right.

_To fall,_

She was the one who showed him what a smile was.

"I remember hearing that it takes less muscles in your mouth to smile than to frown." Gauze covering half her face, green ointment dripping down her cheek, she proudly told him what she had learned –he knew it was eavesdropping- that morning.

"I can't." He watched as her grin sagged down at his blunt answer.

"Just try. For me. Please?"

"No."

"Don't use what I taught you against me."

"Still. No."

"Please?"

"No."

"You know you can if you tried."

"I… _can't_."

"Why won't you just try?"

"I don't want to."

"I promise it won't hurt."

He saw the rush of water hidden in her eyes –her hidden pain- and nodded grudgingly, watching her mouth curve up in the slightest of smiles.

And he tried.

Bubbly warmth grew in his head, and his cracked lips gradually twitched upwards.

_It hurt so much_.

He pushed on.

He did it all for her.

_In love._

She was the one who confessed.

"I feel like something bad is going to happen soon," she confided on a cold, dark night.

He slowly opened his eyes. "What do you mean?"

Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I don't know. I can just feel it, you know? The ground is cold and restless and the sky is rumbling or something."

"You shouldn't worry about it," he groaned. "You think too much, you know."

The blanket rustled. "But I'm trying to be serious here."

She pulled herself up to the blank window, blinking at the blank landscape outside.

He barely heard a sound before she crumpled to the ground, a stream of tears painting her face.

Slowly, he dragged himself to her sobbing form. A bump formed in his throat at the sight of distress on her face.

"Hey, you okay?"

She shook her head. "I'm just scared of tomorrow."

"You shouldn't be scared of tomorrow. You can live how you want. You can always shape your future however you want it." He didn't know where the words had come from.

"That's the most I've ever heard you talk," she wiped a tear away from an eyelash. "But that's not enough. What if your future had already been planned for you?"

"You go with the flow," he mumbled. "You find ways to get out of it."

She looked at him quietly.

He jerked up when a skinny arm snaked around his torso and grasped a handful of his shirt. Her head dropped onto his chest, warming his entire body.

Even his heart.

Slowly, a broad arm reached out and pulled her closer.

Just the way it ought to be.

_But everyone knew,_

Escape.

She had been planning it for months on end.

He had only realized she wasn't kidding when a foggy morning brought in the sound of alarms and screams of pain.

The cell door was open, and he slid away as far as possible when they brought her in again.

Her brown eyes screamed in defiance, her body twisted by the crazy guards that caught her.

He watched as they forced her into a chair and bound her wrists and ankles, ignoring her screaming and punching. Anger surged through him.

Why would she do something so reckless?

A harsh crack against the door startled him, and he looked up into the crazed face of the Leader.

"Ignorant bitch," the Leader hissed. "You almost endangered our entire project. The world isn't supposed to know about this. All you ever do is cause trouble."

"And all you ever do is hurt people."

A deafening slap slashed her cheek.

"I have had _enough_ with this nonsense. Give me the saw."

"Please calm down, sir," a silver-haired man protested and tried to wrench the saw away from the Leader's grasp. "Please do not get worked up over this tiny incident. Come on; let me deal with this."

"Let go," the Leader commanded.

"But sir-"

"I said, _let go!_" with a tremendous thrust, the tables turned as the saw turned on her.

"Any last words, scum?"

Her gaze whipped over. "Shut your dirty mouth," she hissed.

Four words were all it took to send the Leader over the edge.

A sharp gasp, a cry of "_No!_" as the saw met its mark.

He turned around to escape the sight of red pooling on the floor.

But nothing could stop the stench of pain and horror from clouding his nose.

_It was_

She wasn't dead.

No; she was far from it. She was only sleeping. Only dreaming. Only reliving a nightmare that would haunt her forever.

The worst part was that she didn't even scream. Didn't make a single whimper, a single cry, a single gasp when the Leader had brought down the saw.

He sat beside her prone body, carefully lifting up her soaked clothes. Bile rose in his throat when he saw where the blood was coming from.

To most, she had only lost one of her most valuable possessions.

To her, she had lost her life.

He tore off his shirt frantically, wrapping it around her, desperately praying for the impossible miracle that would never come.

The door creaked open and quiet footsteps tiptoed into the room. He looked up in alarm, only to see a woman creep in and shut the door behind her.

Warily, he watched her cover her mouth in the shock and horror of the wound. Long, fiery orange hair was tinged red as the woman put her head against the prone figure's chest. A tiny glitter around her neck caught his eye. There was a golden ring fastened around her throat with a golden chain.

His thoughts vanished as soon as the woman spoke.

"She's still alive, but only just." The woman's hands shook as she pulled thick, white bandages from the depths of her coat. "I can staunch the wound, but she'll need medical attention as soon as possible. What's your friend's name?"

He looked up, disbelief marring his face. "You don't even have the decency to remember a simple _name_? What kind of heartless monster are you?"

Angry, hooded titanium eyes glared at him." Up until today, I wasn't aware that she existed! I wasn't even aware that there were," the woman paused, "people like you until just recently."

He backed away, head lowered in shame. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it. It's not your fault, being defensive like that. I'd be the same way if someone talked about my friends like that." The woman gently ripped strips of cloth, preparing to bandage the wound. "Right now, we need to worry about the bleeding."

A sudden thought struck him. "Wait," he pointed an accusing finger. "If you only found out about us today, how would you have known that my friend needs medical attention? Better yet, how would you have known where to find us, much less what we are?"

The cloth fell from her fingers. The woman looked up but refused to meet his gaze, eyes clouding over with a hidden pain. "My friend," she said simply. "My friend told me to look out for a young boy with shocking white hair and his brown-haired companion. He told me that one of them would be injured."

Well _that_ piqued his interest. "Who's your friend?"

Again, her eyes flitted away. "A man with a penchant for mischief, but a good heart. A man with hair like the moon; silver and sharp. You've seen him before, right?"

His face scrunched up. _Hair like the moon. Silver. Sharp._ Images of a soft-spoken man forcing the saw away from the Leader wormed their way into his mind.

"Yes." His hands clenched. "He's one of them, isn't he?"

"No! He would never do something so evil, so _terrible_ to anyone!" The woman blinked. "I trust him with my life."

"But why should I trust your word?"

Sighing, the woman turned back to her work. "You should trust me because without his intervention, your friend would be dead."

He gasped, remembering the sudden yell of protest as someone tried to force the blade away.

As he readied to argue, a sudden groan broke his boundaries. He looked down, down into the clear eyes of his best friend.

"Quīnque! Quīnque, are you feeling better?" he frantically grasped at the bandages and wrapped them around her mutilated arm. "Quīnque? Answer me!"

A small voice replied. "I'm only a little dizzy. Please don't worry so much about me; I'll be fine." She tried to push herself up, but gasped in sheer pain.

"Wha-?"

"Careful. We can't let her collapse." The mysterious woman guided her charge into a sitting position. Her hands reached out for the bandages. "Allow me."

He watched as the wound was carefully wrapped, crimson blossoms blooming as soon as white met red.

When the woman finished and stood up, a hand was laid on his shoulder.

"I think I understand a little more now," orange hair shielded him from seeing the tears. "I think I understand what you are going through, even if it's only a little bit. Goodbye, Decem." He jumped when he heard his name. "May we meet again, but in better circumstances. I'll wait for you two."

After the woman left, he contemplated her words.

"Decem?" another timid voice shocked him. "Decem, what happened? Why do I feel so tired? Why do I feel like I just something really important?"

Slowly, he turned to face her. Aquamarine clashed with sienna. "Because you have, Quīnque."

When she discovered that she was unable to grip a pencil in the remains of her right hand, he held her tightly as she cried.

_Utterly, entirely_

The months passed without any incident. He watched her gaze out of the window, pencil forgotten in a corner of the room.

She refused to eat or drink, starving herself to the brink of exhaustion before he was able to pry her mouth open and shove in a bit of bread.

Nothing was worth living anymore. Her only talent had been brutally taken away from her. Her only source of happiness had been torn from her grasp, leaving her with nothing.

Most of all, she refused to draw. Even though her left hand was perfectly fine, she abstained from picking up the pencil.

It was the nightmares that invaded her mind. They were the ones that made her bolt out of bed and scream in genuine pain. He always padded up to her side, slumping down and gently caressing her soft hair, murmuring quietly into her ear until she fell asleep. Then, and only then, did he lean back and allow the moisture to drip from his eyelashes as he sobbed in quiet agony.

The Leader no longer came to bother them. It seemed as if they had outlived their usefulness. Day by day, less and lesser tests were administered and the red spots on his arms finally began to heal. Food became scarce; most weeks they went by on a single bowl of water and hunk of bread.

He promised her they would live out this horrible period of time.

"And what'll happen after that? Where would we go? No one wants a cripple, especially a cripple like me." She raised her stump and waved it around in a morbidly comedic way. "I've lost everything, Decem. There's nothing left for me in this world."

"You still have me, and I still have you. That's all that matters." He gently unfurled his white wings and enveloped them both in a blanket of warmth. "We'll make it out alive; I swear on my own existence."

She poked him. "Swearing on your existence is never a good thing. Take it back. I don't want to live out with the burden of your existence hanging around me. That's one thing I definitely don't need."

A tiny smile cracked his stoic exterior. "I already promised we'd stay together and make it through, Quīnque. All you need to worry about is to keep yourself safe at all times. I'd hate to see anything happen to you."

She bit her lip.

The very next day, she was taken away from him.

_Impossible_

On the two hundred and twenty-second day (not that he was counting), the rain started.

It fell in big sheets, cleansing the windows of their filth.

People rejoiced in the streets.

But the rain continued to fall. Day by day, water flooded through every nook and cranny it found. It found solace in the tiniest cracks on the road, and even the miniscule opening in the windows.

People slowed, realizing the potential dangers of all the water.

It continued to rise.

People begged to their gods to do something- _to do anything_- to stop the rain.

No one heeded their cries.

The sun refused to grace the land with its healing rays. Rain continued to fall from the dark clouds above.

The fields were the first to flood.

Then water swept through the lowlands.

_For there_

He looked out the window, the endless gray blotting out all slivers of blue. The rhythmic beat of water meeting steel sang melodies in his ears.

Mostly, he dreamt about a future of glossy skies and burning suns. Anything that could combat the dreariness that dripped the whole day. She had been taken away; never to return.

He wondered why they still bothered to keep him. The daily tests had been stopped altogether. What else did they need from him? He had nothing to give.

The stale bread was left untouched, as was the water. He had no need for them.

He wanted to die.

It was only until the door creaked open that he finally turned around. A familiar man ducked in, arms grasped around a motionless bundle.

The man's panicked eyes pleaded. "Flee this place, Decem. Flee with Quīnque. Take her with you."

The bundle unraveled at his feet, revealing the quiet form of his friend.

"But- how can I leave this place? There are so many guards and so many scientists-"

"Fly." The man interrupted.

"What?"

"You have wings for a purpose," the grin on the man's face was obvious. "They're not just for show."

His eyes narrowed. "How do I know I can trust you?"

"Who else would you be able to trust, then? I know you trust Quīnque, but whom else? Certainly not the Leader; he'd have you two terminated in an instant."

He pondered for a bit. "There was a woman… She called you her friend. I trust her."

Why did everything get so quiet all of a sudden?

"She's gone," bitterness seeped through the man's voice. "She will never come back for you. I'm sorry."

Betrayal crashed down on him. The only other person he had put faith into- was gone?

"They took her life. She was trying to protect a defenseless experiment. The Leader gunned her down. Treason, he said." Acrid drops fell and stained the floor. "It was only a child, but the Leader killed it as well. Said he couldn't afford anything leaking out to the public about anything."

His arms tensed in anger. How dare they?! How dare they kill off innocent beings?

"This is why you must flee. The water is rising; soon this place will be flooded." The man strode to the window and struggled to pry the bars open. "Flee, while you still have a chance."

He watched as the bars were flung to the ground. The man smashed a hole through the thick glass, blood mixing with crystal shards.

Pulling himself to his feet, he clutched the bundle in his arms. Was it just him, or had she always been so small, so thin that her ribs were jutting painfully into his side? Slowly he crept to the window, hauling himself onto the ledge.

Freedom. It pulled and keened at his feet, begging to be released. His wings unfurled, stark white contrasting to the dark landscape.

"Why aren't you escaping?" He turned back to the man.

"Simple," he shrugged. "I have nothing to go back to. Unlike you, I have no ties to anyone. Anyone that I have ever cared about is dead because of me and the things I've done."

"You can still come with us."

"You're not strong enough to carry both of us, Decem. You still have something to live for; at least let me die as a martyr, knowing I've done something good with my life."

An alarm rang shrilly through the building. "They're here. They know what's happening now. Please, _go!_" The man reached out and shoved him out the window.

Falling through the air, he felt the touch of water burn into his skin. He recovered from his initial shock, and slowly thrashed his way back up.

The rain was silenced by a loud bang. The last glimpse he saw of the man was dark red erupting through his coat, and the familiar glimmer of a long-forgotten memory clenched in his hands.

The man lifted a trembling arm, and the ring and chain hurtled towards his shocked hands.

He grasped them and never let go.

_To be_

He flew for what seemed like forever, the bundle in his hands becoming colder and colder. The ring had been safely tucked away around his neck. Warmth seeped through his bones as he flew on.

The man had been right. Water mirrored his flight wherever he went. There were barely any places left with clear land, but he managed to find them.

Everywhere he went, people shunned him.

_Freak._

_What kind of monster are you?_

_Abomination to the society. Get out._

He could never find a place to rest. People refused to meet his gaze when he crashed into their terraces, mumbling about the will of God bringing down angels that had sinned.

The white wings were what threw people off the most. They sincerely believed an angel had been cast out of heaven and onto their doorstep. Then, they would balk and gasp at the girl that he held protectively in his arms.

_A girl with no right hand_.

No one wanted them here.

Each night, he settled atop a roof, catching a glimpse of the rain before clutching her to his chest and falling into a deep sleep. Each night, he dreamt of the stars peeking at him, whispering into his ear.

Each night, he woke up in a cold sweat, death haunting him in his dreams forever.

The rain continued to pour mercilessly on them both.

A tiny hand clutched to his arm. She smiled wearily up at him.

"I'm fine. Don't worry."

_A_

"Excuse me, miss," he begged. "Do you have space to spare for two? We don't need anything except for a place to sleep. I promise we'll be out first thing the next morning."

The raven-haired beauty standing in front of him frowned slightly. "Let me ask my husband. I'm sure we have some room available."

He stood on the doorstep, wings releasing the tension from their long flight. She was still motionless in his arms.

The woman reappeared after a few minutes, dragging a tall, unkempt man along with her. "We do have room, right?"

"Um…" The man racked his hand through thick orange hair. "We do, but remember what the news said about-"

"Now's not the time to be worrying about what the news said," the woman snapped. "Look; they're cold, they're probably tired as hell and I bet they're hungry, too. All they want is a place to stay for the night."

"But-"

"Look at the rain, idiot." A hand pointed at the rapidly darkening sky. "Do you want them to suffer another night in the storm?" Lavender eyes turned to stare into his soul. "How many nights have you stayed outside with your friend, kid?"

"Since a few months ago," he winced at how pitiful he sounded.

"See what I mean? We can't just turn them away; look at what they had to go through!" the woman wrenched his arm and pulled him inside the friendly doorway. "I don't care what the news says. We're giving them shelter as long as they need it."

The man had gone quiet, staring at him for the longest time. Trembling fingers reached out, but he flinched away.

"I won't hurt you," the man whispered. "I just wanted to see the necklace."

The necklace?

He gently pulled out the ring and chain. "You mean this?"

"Yeah. This." Amber eyes misted over as the man hugged the necklace to his chest. He could see the betrayal and hurt on the man's face.

"So they didn't make it." Pain shattered what was left of his heart as he saw the woman put an arm around the man and beckon them inside. "Come on; we'll get you something to eat."

_Perfectly,_

He woke up to find water flooding the roof.

"Quīnque! Quīnque, get up! There's too much rain!" Frantically, he pulled his friend to her feet, grasped her into his shivering embrace and took off right as the rain conquered the roof.

"Decem? What's going on?" sleep shook from her eyes and she trembled in his arms. "Why are we flying already? Let me see."

"Don't you dare look down," he pulled her in as the rain pelted them both. Flapping higher and higher, he braced himself against the wind and pushed on. Bullets of rain fell and stained his no-longer white wings. Determination surged through his veins; he couldn't let Quīnque die like this. It would be too cruel.

"Why can't I look down, Decem?" her voice was plaintive, tugging on the remains of his heartstrings. "Is there something wrong with the ground?"

"There is no ground anymore."

"Oh." She fell silent. "I didn't know that."

"Just… Please don't look down, Quīnque. I don't know if you're prepared for it." He groaned when a particularly strong gust of wind blew him off course, wings struggling to fly.

"Decem, are you okay?"

"'Course I am. Why'd you ask?" He continued to force himself upwards.

"Because you-"

She never got the chance to finish her sentence.

A particularly forceful wind burst smashed into his side, throwing him off course.

His arms trembled.

The last thing he saw was her astonished face as she dropped towards the water.

_Happy_

"Quīnque?!"

He rushed after her, tearing apart the curtains of water. "Quīnque, where are you?"

"Decem?" there was barely a whisper, but he immediately turned to the sound of her voice.

"Quīnque! Wait; I'm coming to get you," he glided down to the rolling surface of water and searched vainly for any signs of life. The rain hampered his vision as he vainly searched for any sign of her.

Blue stained with red was the only way he ever found her in the tempest.

She was leaning against a floating piece of wood; eyes closed, mouth clenched tightly in a firm line.

"Quīnque?" he hovered over her still form, panic rushing through his head.

"Decem?" she whispered. "It's so cold."

"Hey, hey, hey. Don't go falling asleep on me now." Gently, he pushed away the chunk of wood. She let out a gasp of pain.

Then he found the source of red.

If he pushed away the wood, she would die.

_Oh._

_So this is what it meant when you were stuck between a rock and a hard place._

_I hate it._

"Quīnque, you're-"

"Yeah. I know." She grinned up at him. "At least I get to see you before I go."

"But you can't!" He was appalled that she would ever think up of such an idea. "If you go, who else will be with me?"

"I'm sure you'll find someone else that cares for you, Decem." Her shaking fingers gently stroked the side of his face. "You can survive. I believe in you."

"No! I can't let this happen!" He bent down to hug her, but she pushed him away.

"Don't." Tears streamed down her face. "Don't make this harder for any of us. Just leave me and find somewhere safe to go."

"But I can't let you die like this!" Unfamiliar moisture washed over his eyes and he blinked his tears away.

"You have to." A wave surged over her smiling face. "I'm just a burden if you take me with you."

"You're never a burden to me."

Another rush of water separated their faces. "Stop denying the truth, Decem. You have to go." At the sight of his dismal face, she laughed weakly. "Just remember that I'll always be in your heart wherever you go, okay? I'll never leave you. Ever."

"But-"

"I'm sorry." Her fingers shook as she mussed up his hair fondly. "I'm so sorry."

The water swept over.

"_No!_"

_Ending._

After months of rain, the skies finally parted and the sun peeked through.

He didn't care anymore.

He was all alone.

Floating aimlessly over the blue plains, he sighed.

_Nothing left to do_.

The raging sun burned into his skin, searing deep red lines into his delicate flesh.

He ignored the stinging pain and continued on his useless journey.

_I want to die_.

He only noticed that he was gradually sinking when the water lapped at his baked toes and pulled him in.

There was no struggle.

As he slowly made his descent into the water, he opened his eyes one last time.

A sparkle caught his eye, and he used the last bit of his strength to pull it in.

His eyes closed for the final time.

The ring and chain winked in his lifeless hand.

**A/N: If you liked it, feel free to leave a comment below. **

**Thanks for reading!**

**P.S. Kudos to whoever guesses the symbolism of the ring/chain and the cameos made in this fic. I tried to keep it mysterious ^^;; but you know me.**


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